


I Guess That This Must be the Place

by CherryTree



Category: Animal Kingdom (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-04-06 20:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19069777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryTree/pseuds/CherryTree
Summary: Daren just got out of prison with a chip on his shoulder. Adrian has a crush he shouldn’t have. What happens when the two escape together to the sandy beaches of Belize? And, what happens when they come back to reality?





	1. Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note:
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please note that the horizontal lines represent a switch in perspective, from Adrian’s to Daren’s. If this is confusing or you would like me to label the perspective (i.e. “Daren’s POV”) before each section, leave a comment! Thanks ☺

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His eyes opened slowly, squinting to shield him from the morning sunlight that streamed across the room. He stretched his arms above his head, still sore from yesterday’s wipeout in the water. Despite the dull ache, a smile crept across his face. Today, after all, was the day he’d been waiting for.

Rolling onto his back, Adrian smoothed his hands over the cool sheet on either side of him. He thought absent-mindedly about what it would be like to feel another body there, to touch its warmth, to hold it close. He had one specific body in mind, a body he’d thought about for years in ways he wasn’t supposed to, a body that would never welcome his touch.

Adrian let out a sigh at the impossibility of it all, at his foolishness for even entertaining the idea, however fleetingly, in his mind. But, not even this vague loneliness – the one he awoke with most days – could spoil this morning for him. Today, after all, was the day. 

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His bed was hard. It was always the first thought he had upon waking – the hardness of the bed, the way it dug into his hips and spine, the way it creaked when he moved, the way it swayed when his cellmate jumped down from the bunk above him. He’d slept in his fair share of uncomfortable places: cramped car seats, the cold sand of the beach, countless lumpy sofas. Now, they all seemed like luxury hotels. 

Daren’s eyes flickered open, absorbed the harsh fluorescent light that radiated off of the pale yellow cinderblock walls. He already had a headache. Yet, despite the dull ache, a smile crept across his face. Today, after all, was the day he’d been waiting for. 

“Yo, Cody, get up man. Today’s your big day, huh?” Daren heard JP’s voice from across the small room. He rolled onto his side and found himself looking at his 300-pound Latino cellmate taking a shit on the tiny metal toilet.

“Yup,” Daren sat up, perched himself on the edge of the bed, rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes.

“You still gonna do that job for me when you’re out? I need your help, man. My family needs the money real bad.” 

“I said I’d do it. I will. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Daren stood to dress while he spoke. He and JP had only been cellmates for a week but they’d talked about the job everyday since. And frankly, JP’s persistence was starting to irritate Daren.

“You’re a real lifesaver, you know that?” JP held out his hand for Daren to shake, looking him in the eyes while he did. It was an unspoken agreement and an unspoken threat; Daren would take his share and nothing more. It was odd, shaking hands with a man while he took a shit. But, it certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing Daren had done in jail.

“Who’s picking you up? You got your brothers coming up?” JP started to wipe. Daren turned, stared blankly through the rungs of the cell at the wall a few feet beyond. 

“Nah, man.” I think my mom’s coming,” Daren muttered. He’d rather his brothers.

“Mama’s boy, huh?” Daren gritted his teeth at JP’s remark. “Me too,” the large man continued, “mine’s coming for a visit tomorrow.”

Daren heard JP stand behind him. He started to reply but his answer was cut off by a booming voice heard in the distance, a voice that had awoken Daren so many times over the past few months: “Open!” 

On command, all of the cell doors on the row opened with a loud bang. Daren wouldn’t miss the noise in jail. Everything was always so loud: the doors, the voices, the toilets, the beds, the hollow screams of nightmares. He rubbed his temples, his headache getting worse.

“Breakfast! Everyone out. Move your asses. Everyone one!” As the order came from the guard, the inmates poured from their cells. Daren followed the crowd. He could almost taste his freedom.

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“Adrian!?” He heard the voice echoing through Tao’s small surf shop. He knew it instantly.

“In here!” Adrian called out. He didn’t stop his work. His hand gripped the bar of wax, pulled it swiftly up and down the board on the table in front of him. He’d already toiled over the thing for 6 hours today, 2 or so to go and he’d be free to surf before the sun set.

“Hey man. What’s up? You good? I heard you bit it hard down at Black’s yesterday.”

Adrian looked up to see Craig’s tall frame leaning against the wall of his workroom. He smiled.

“Yeah, I was smashed into the cliffs at the gorge by a 10 footer. No harm done, though,” Adrian replied. The bruises on his ribcage were an indication that harm was, in fact, done. But his best friend’s big brother didn’t need to know that. 

“I gotta get down there soon. I haven’t been to Black’s in years. Not since I took Daren down there for qualifiers.” 

Adrian’s stomach fluttered at the mention of Daren’s name.

“He’s getting out today, yeah?” Adrian didn’t know why he asked. The day had been etched into his mind since Daren’s sentencing months ago. 

“Yep. Smurf’s headed up there now. We’re throwing a party tonight. No one told you?” 

Adrian looked down, fiddling with the bar of wax in his hand. He’d anticipated this happening, but he didn’t know it would hurt this bad.

“Nah, I’ve been keeping a low profile for the past week or so,” Adrian confessed.

“That about those rumors?” 

Adrian nodded.

“Is it true, or…?” Craig’s sentence shopped short, as if he were waiting for Adrian to say “fuck no”. But, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Instead, Adrian squared his shoulders, stood up a little straighter, forced his broad shoulders to take up more space. He looked at Craig then, held his gaze. If he was going to take a beating, he might as well take it with his head up.

“It’s true,” Adrian’s voice betrayed his body; it sounded scared.

“That’s cool man,” Craig’s reassurance came easily. Adrian let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I knew a few gay dudes down in Mexico. Guys knew how to part, let me tell you.”

Adrian laughed, relieved.

He didn’t know exactly why he’d chosen now to do it, after all the years of keeping his secret close. Perhaps he was just tired, tired of hiding, tired of pretending, tired of hoping life would get better but being too afraid to do anything about it. He’d told a few people and they’d told a few people and soon it seemed like everyone in Oceanside knew. Except his father, of course, but that was a different matter altogether. 

“I have to get going. I just came by for the rest. But come by around 8 tonight, we’re going to surprise him.”

Adrian nodded. Putting down the bar of wax, he picked up an envelope of cash he’d stashed under the table days ago. Craig took it from his hand.

“I’ll be there,” Adrian confirmed. He couldn’t hide from everyone forever, could he?

Craig slapped his hand in a friendly goodbye. Adrian couldn’t help but smirk. Craig was always an easy guy to be around.

Adrian listened as Craig’s footsteps retreated back down the hallway to the front of the shop. But, before they disappeared completely, he heard Craig call out, “Oh, by the way, if anyone gives you shit about it, I’ll beat his ass for you.”

Adrian’s smirk widened into a grin. Craig was always an easy guy to be around, until he wasn’t. 

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“Hi baby.” 

Daren stood like stone as he felt her arms wrap around him, hold him, steady him, and suffocate him all at once. If had been months since they’d last seen each other. Her scent encompassed him, so familiar and yet a distant memory. He breathed her in, relaxed into her embrace.

“Let’s get you home,” she pulled away, watching him as if trying to read his thoughts, as if reminding him that she could always read his thoughts. Families keep no secrets. He held her gaze.

“I missed you, baby,” her hand grasped his face, lightly stroking his beard. He leaned into the touch. She smirked.

“I got these for you,” she handed him a pack of cigarettes, a lighter. She always knew what he wanted, what he needed. He lit one up and followed her to the car, exhaled slowly, savoring the taste he’d missed.

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Adrian stacked the board he’d been working on all day along the wall of his workroom with the others. He filled out the invoice, indicating the work he’d done. He was happy to leave, his muscles hurt and his mind was anxious. All he wanted to do was wash away his thoughts and pain in the waves. He had a few hours before the party.

As Adrian walked through the shop to leave, he heard Tao’s raised voice behind the closed door of his office. 

“We can’t do it, man. We’re closed,” Toa’s voice was angry, a sharp contrast to his usual chill demeanor. The tone peaked Adrian’s interest; he stopped to listen.

“Fifteen hundred,” Adrian shook his head when the heard the stranger’s offer.

“You guys gotta come in the morning if you want your shit done by the next day,” Tao’s reply came.

“Two thousand.”

“C’mon, I told you man, we’re closed. I’m going home.”

“Twenty five?” 

There was a pause. Adrian could almost feel Tao thinking. $2500 was a lot of money.

“Tell you what, you make it three and we have a deal.”

Adrian sighed. He knew this drill well. It was always the same: they showed up late, demanded the work be done, bargained a bit, settled on a price, and Adrian stayed late. He’d have to tell Tao no this time. 

Not wanting to be seen, Adrian slinked back to his workroom. He waited.

“Got us a job,” Tao’s voice was weary when he entered the room.

“I heard,” Adrian’s voice was calm.

“Three thousand,” Tao leaned against the wall.

“You know I can’t do it. I told you, I’ve got to go today,” Adrian moved to pick up his bags. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tao shake his head.

“We’ve gotta do it, man. I couldn’t turn it down. But I can’t stay. I have Tama tonight, have to pick her up from daycare.”

Adrian paused. Tama was Tao’s daughter. And, as hard as it was for Adrian to say no to Tao, it was nearly impossible for him to say no to Tama. The kid was a gem.

“We’ll split it 50/50. You stay tonight, cut the holes, sand it up. I’ll come in early and patch the thing in the morning,” Tao continued.

Adrian caved, “I want tomorrow off.”

Tao smiled, “Done.”

Adrian rubbed his face, exhaustion washing over him as he contemplated the night head. He could finish the job in 6, maybe 7, hours. The waves would have to wait. Daren would have to wait.

Tao brought in the board and laid it on Adrian’s table.

“You’re one of a kind, man,” Tao said as he left the shop.

Soon, a silence filled the air. It was always weird, being there at night, when the boardwalk and the beach were deserted, when the only sound Adrian could hear was the familiar rhythm of the water meeting the shore. It was the soundtrack to his life. 

Adrian turned on the lamp above his workstation. Drilled into the hard surfboard in front of him, sorry to see it go to waste. The board, like him, it seemed, would never reach the water. 

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The ride was silent. Heavy. Daren felt the cold glass of the window press against his face as he looked out at the sights. The car rolled past the benchmarks of his life: the waves where he’d learned to surf, the boardwalks where he’d learned to skate, the beach where he’d learned to drink, the streets where he’d learned to fight, the apartments where he’d learned to work, he warehouses where he’d learned the jobs. All of it was right here – Oceanside, home.

And yet, that childhood seemed a million miles away. It was easier then, before he’d learned he wanted more. Time separated them irrevocably – childhood Daren and preset Daren. Childhood Daren was free. Free to roam the streets and fuck around with friends. Free to dream of grandeur, of surfing fame and fortune. Free to flee, to escape, to hide. 

Present Daren had just spent months explicitly not free. And yet, in that jail cell, he’d felt more freedom than he had in years. He could breath there, and think. Home – it was just another jail cell. Except, the warden at home was far harsher than any the California justice system had to offer.

Daren looked over at Smurf as they pulled into the driveway just after dusk. She smiled tightly. Her mind was impenetrable, her face bore no emotion, her eyes were hard as steel. Daren sighed. 

It was a strange feeling, returning after being away for a while. Everything was exactly the same and yet nothing was the same at all. Daren stared glassy eyed out the window at a new Jet Ski, Craig’s latest splurge, no doubt. 

“You coming, baby?” Smurf’s voice snapped Daren out of his trance.

“Yeah,” he stepped out of the car.

The house was eerily quiet. Quiet enough that Daren suspected briefly that his brothers were out on a job. But, it was too early for that. There’d still be heat on the Cody’s after Daren’s fuck up, after Pope’s. A job was too risky now; Smurf had to know that.

He followed her around back. He couldn’t see inside; the pitch-black windows revealed only his own reflection, illuminated by the low moon. Smurf gestured for Daren to go first. He slid the glass door open and walked inside. Silence and darkness. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

And then, the lights and noise enveloped him, cheers and jeers from every direction. And there was Craig, in the center of it all, looking the same as he’d always looked, arms spread wife, face bright with a smile.

“Welcome home, man!” Craig’s voice boomed.

“Oh, shit,” Daren uttered under his breath, looking around, taking it in. They’d even decorated the house with balloons and streamers. For the first time in a long time, Daren smiled. A genuine smile. The kind of smile that threatens to break your face and bring tears to your eyes. This, this was home. 

Craig hugged him , and then Baz, and Cath, and everyone else. 

“Man, you didn’t have to do this,” Daren said to Craig.

“Didn’t have to? Dude you just got out of jail. It’s time to celebrate!”

Daren felt Craig’s heavy arm over his shoulder, pulling him through the crowd. Someone handed him a beer. Daren chugged it in one gulp, yelping when he finished, rousing a cheer from the crowd. A crowd which, Daren couldn’t help but notice, was missing one particular face.

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Although the sun had retreated beyond the horizon hours ago, the air was still hot when Adrian left the shop just after 1am. He rolled the windows down as he drove, letting the breeze wash over his tired body. 

His mind filled with thoughts of Daren – Daren and him as kids running along the beach, pushing and tripping each other, wrestling in the sand. Daren and him pulling petty jobs as young teens, he the lookout, Daren the one who took an unassuming sunbather’s watch or wallet. Daren and him competing up and down the shores of the west coast, spending nights camped out with Craig in the back of his truck. Daren and him just months ago sipping a beer on the boardwalk, reminiscing about all the good times. Adrian missed him more than he’d admit. 

His stomach fluttered. It wasn’t just the idea of seeing Daren that made his heart pound in his chest, his mind race. Rather, it was the possibility of losing Daren. The possibility of Daren knowing about him, of Daren hating him, of Daren leaving him. The thought made him feel sick. 

He reminded himself to breath as he pulled up to the house. Despite the late hour, the music was still pumping loudly; he could hear slurred voices raised above the beat in the backyard. Adrian hesitated, his car idling in the driveway. He shook his head; it was now or never, right? 

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It was deep into the night and Daren was deep into a joint. He sat on the patio furniture by the pool, facing a girl he’d never met before. Her long blonde hair covered her shoulders, her eyes were glassy with drunkenness. Daren couldn’t remember her name. 

“So, you went to prison, huh?” She smiled at him flirtatiously. 

“Not prison, just jail,” Daren corrected, his eyes rolling over her body, the exposed skin of her chest and arms. Daren chastised himself silently, thinking that he should have played the bad boy. But, wasn’t he sick of being the bad boy; wasn’t that what he thought about all day in that jail cell? Couldn’t he just be a guy? 

“What’d you do?” Her hand slipped into his, stealing the joint. He watched as she took a toke, held it in, exhaled; the smoke danced around her head.

“I stole a car,” Daren answered as he stole the joint back.

“Oh yeah? Was it a fast car?” Her voice was thick, seductive. She rubbed her hand up and down his leg.

“Uh huh,” he exhaled a puff of smoke, moving closer, their knees touching now. He leaned in. He brought his hand to her face, cupped her cheek, pulled her to him, wanting more. Wanting touch and contact and tenderness. Her hand roamed further up his thigh.

He pulled their mouths together. She smelled like vanilla and honey and her face was smooth and her lips were soft. Daren’s nose wrinkled. Still, his tongue found hers as his hands roamed down her back. She moaned lightly. He kissed deeper. 

And yet, his mind felt distracted. Despite his high, despite her hands, his mind couldn’t relax. It whirled around with memories of jail and the job that put him there, with questions of what would happen next and of where pope was, with worries about whether or not they were all in danger. Urging his mind to be silent, he opened his eyes, still kissing but with less enthusiasm.  
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Walking into the backyard, Adrian saw him instantly. His hands all over some girl, his tongue deep inside her mouth. Adrian’s stomach dropped, a feeling of deep shame overcoming him. He’d spent months fantasizing about this moment, about seeing this guy, who, for some reason, he couldn’t get out of his head. He’d pictured it a 100 different ways, but never like this. He never thought Daren would be too busy to notice him. 

That old feeling of loneliness rushed over him again, settled in his bones. Adrian was frozen in place. 

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That’s when Daren saw him, standing alone by the gate, looking down, looking flustered. Daren pulled away.

“Shit. Stay where you are,” he said to the girl, extracting himself from her limbs.

“What? Where are you going? C’mon, don’t go?” Her voice sounded vaguely whiny; Daren rolled his eyes. She reached up to pull him back to her but he was already walking away. Someone more important had caught his attention. 

“Adrian!” Daren’s shout was louder than he intended, drawing looks. A few paces away now, Daren saw Adrian smile. His heart fluttered. 

“Hey, man!” It had been so long since Daren had heard that voice. It sounded like music to his ears. 

Before he really knew what was happening, his arms were around Adrian, gripping him into a tight hug. Adrian smelt like sweat and salt; Daren inhaled deeply, despite himself. 

“It’s good to see you, man,” Daren said into Adrian’s hard shoulder. 

They pulled away from each other. 

“Sorry I’m so late. I had some work to finish up at the shop.”

“No worries,” Daren swung his arm around Adrian’s back, missing the contact of the hug. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

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Adrian followed Daren into the house, his eyes scanning the room. There were people everywhere, drunk people, high people, passed-out people. The two stopped at the island in the kitchen, where Daren handed Adrian a cold beer from the fridge. He took a long swig; an attempt to calm his nerves. 

“So, what’s up, man? It’s been forever,” Daren lit a cigarette. 

Relief washed over Adrian. He knew now that Daren didn’t know; or, if Daren did know, he didn’t care. 

His eyes, as if on their own accord and without permission from his brain, rolled over Daren’s body. His hair was longer than Adrian had seen it in years; his beard, too, wasn’t freshly clipped. Daren’s tank top exposed his bare arms, bulkier than Adrian had remembered. One bicep was marked with a new tattoo. Adrian wanted to reach out, to lightly rub his fingers along Daren’s skin, to feel it react with goose bumps. He gripped his beer more tightly. 

“I went to down to Black’s yesterday, tried to compete in qualifiers,” Adrian began. 

Daren nodded. They’d surfed those very same qualifiers together years ago. “How’d it go?”

“I ate shit,” Adrian laughed. “You remember that kid Ari, though? The one from New Zealand. He used to be a total dick head, cocky as fuck but couldn’t back it up?”

Daren nodded again, smiled.

“He won. It was wild. He got this ten footer…”

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Daren loved when Adrian told stories. He loved the way Adrian’s eyes got bright with excitement, the way his voice went up a pitch or two with animation, the way his hands gestured smoothly. 

Daren laughed easily with Adrian; had always laughed easily with Adrian. They’d grown up together, surfed together, skated together, competed against each other, slept beside each other.

The familiarity, that must be the reason why Daren felt the way he did around Adrian, felt the giddiness well up inside him, felt his insides turn. He watched Adrian as he talked. The kid looked the same as he’d always looked: short reddish brown hair, pale skin, light eyes, broad chest, heavy arms, tall. But, Daren felt himself admiring his friend in a way he hadn’t before. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was high.

“Daren?” Adrian’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Whoa, sorry, man. I’m high as fuck.” 

“I can tell,” Adrian laughed. 

“You want some?” 

“Nah, I’ve got to get going, actually. Worked for like 15 hours today and everything still hurts from yesterday.”

“You just got here,” Daren protested. They’d barely finished their beers.

Adrian ignored his protests, “We’ll go surfing tomorrow. All right?”

Daren sighed. He wanted Adrian to stay, wanted to sit beside him and talk to him until the sun rose, wanted to fall asleep next to him, listening to the birds chirp outside. He wanted things to go back to normal, the way they were before he’d gotten locked up.

Instead, Daren agreed: “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow, man.” 

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Adrian felt guilty. The look on Daren’s face when he said he was leaving haunted his mind as lay in his own bed, trying to fall asleep. He turned on his side, willing his mind to succumb to the tiredness of his body. It wouldn’t. 

Why did he still feel that hollowness in his chest, that empty space he was sure Daren’s return would fill? He knew it was because he wanted more. But, why couldn’t this crush be focused on someone else, on one of the guys he’d met down in the gay bars in San Diego? Why Daren? Why not someone who would love him back, who would want him back, the way he so desperately needed to be loved and wanted? 

Why Daren? The question echoed in his mind as he drifted off to sleep. 

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Daren awoke to the feeling of fingers brushing lightly through his hair. His eyes creaked open. The sun was just begging to rise outside. He felt rough fabric beneath his bare chest. He must have passed out on the sofa.

“Hi, baby,” Smurf’s voice was a whisper, “Did you have fun?”

“Mhm,” Daren’s mouth tasted like vomit. 

“I did this all for you, know you. To show you that I forgive you.”

Daren remained silent. Smurf’s fingers moved lower, brushing over the skin that covered his arm, his ribs, his stomach. He sighed deeply.

“I love you, baby.”

Daren closed his eyes, concentrated on the feeling of her hand trail up and down his body. 

“I do everything for you,” Smurf’s voice was barely audible now.

Daren drifted back to sleep, the sound of his mother’s voice echoing in his head: “All for you, all for you.”


	2. Freedom, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter mentions (very briefly and without much detail) domestic abuse (not against Daren or Adrian or between Daren and Adrian). 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

* * *

“What the fuck, man!?” 

The harsh, unexpected voice jarred Daren out of his sleepy haze. He’d awoken in his bed mere moments before, unsure of when or how exactly he’d gotten there. He was sure, however, that he desperately needed to take a piss.

Now, he stood in the doorway of his bathroom, his eyes barely focused on the scene in front of him. There was Craig, water from the showerhead pouring down over his naked body; a girl on her knees in front of him, busy. 

“Sorry, man, couldn’t hold it,” Daren stepped over to the toilet, unzipped the jeans he’d apparently slept in, closed his eyes, and reveled in the relief of emptying his bladder.

“Want me to stop?” The girl’s voice was raspy. 

“God no,” Craig’s reply was quick.

It wasn’t the first time Daren had caught Craig in the act, and surely, it wasn’t the last. He should’ve been grossed out, but he’d grown up with Craig; he’d seen his brother naked almost as frequently as he’d seen him clothed. This was no different, just wetter and messier. 

Daren flushed. Beside him, he heard Craig wince at the sudden onslaught of cold water. 

“You’re a dick,” Craig called out as Daren left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

As he walked towards the kitchen to get a much-needed cup of coffee, Daren couldn’t help but think about the last time someone had been on their knees in font of him, about who it was and where, and what the situation said about him. He ran his hands through his hair, willing himself to forget, to forget how different it’d felt, how good it’d felt.

* * *

“Hey,” he hugged her from behind, planting a light kiss on the top of her head.

“Hi,” She smiled back, a smile, Adrian knew, looked so identical to his own. He sat down across from her on the quiet patio.

“You look like shit,” She scoffed with a smirk on her face.

“Thanks, asshole,” Adrian laughed back. “I feel like shit. I barely slept last night and worked like 15 hours yesterday.” He stretched his arms above his head as he spoke, marveling at how much his muscles still ached. Eventually, he lounged into the chair, resting his head on the backrest. He was still half asleep.

“Did you go to Daren’s welcome home party?” Jess asked.

His reply was cut off by the approaching waitress. He ordered a cup of coffee, eggs, toast, bacon, happy to know that caffeine would soon be coursing through his veins; his empty stomach would soon be full. 

When his sister ordered nothing but a smoothie, Adrian rolled his eyes. She was a small girl, her body so different in stature than his own. She folded herself into a little ball at the table, feet on the seat, knees up near her neck. He looked her over carefully.

“You don’t look so good yourself,” Adrian said quietly. He could still see the traces of a black eye evident on her face.

“Mhm,” She averted her gaze. They’d had this conversation 100 times before. Adrian always pleaded for her to leave, offered her money, a place to stay, support and love. She always refused to go.

“You know you don’t have to take this shit from him,” he continued.

“Mhm,” She shrunk further into her seat, retreating into herself the way Adrian had seen her do so many times over the past few years. He sighed. 

“I just want you to be happy,” he said quietly, reaching across the table to brush his hand down her arm, to reassure her, to comfort her, to protect her even though he knew he couldn’t. 

“I know.” Her reply was barely above a whisper. She still refused to look him in the eye.

Adrian was relieved when the tension between them was interrupted by the arrival of their drinks. He added milk to his coffee and savored a long gulp. Across from him, Jess sipped her smoothie through a straw.

“You never answered my question: did you go see Daren last night?” She changed the subject; she always changed the subject.

“Yeah, I stopped by. I didn’t stay long, everyone was already trashed when I got there,” Adrian said as his eggs and toast arrived. He dug in without pause.

“You know,” Jess started as she eyed him carefully, “he’s never going to like you back.” 

Adrian stopped chewing. He’d come out to her months ago, before he’d come out to anyone else. But, he’d never told her about his feelings for Daren, never told her how he couldn’t get the guy’s face out of his head, how he looked forward to seeing him everyday, how he dreamt about him.

“What are you talking about?” Adrian played dumb. Jess rolled her eyes.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I see the way you look at him. I used to think it was this weird hero worship thing, like you were jealous of how he surfed or beat kids up or something. Now it all makes sense.”

“I don’t like him. He’s just my best friend,” Adrian knew his face revealed the truth behind his denial. 

“Uh huh,” Jess could see through him. He focused on the plate in front of him.

“You should get one of those apps. What’s it called? Like tinder but for gay dudes? Grinder?” Jess continued.

Adrian grimaced slightly. He’d never thought of himself as the kind of guy that was desperate enough to look for online hookups. 

“You need to find a guy who actually wants to fuck you. Forget about Daren,” Jess finished, sipping her smoothie with a satisfied look on her face.

Adrian felt his cheeks burn pink. Jess and him talked about most things, but not the intricacies of their sex lives, not the fact that Adrian would rather take it than give it, not the fact that he liked the feeling of a guy’s weight on him, pounding him into the mattress. 

He saw Jess smirk: “I’m not judging, you know. You like what you like. Who gives a fuck?” 

Adrian shook his head, desperate the change the subject once again.

* * *

“Dude, you really ruined the mood in there,” Daren looked up to see a still half-naked Craig enter the kitchen. At least wore shorts on now. “You know we have like five bathrooms, right?”

“Yeah? And that one’s mine,” Daren’s reply was muffled by a mouthful of pancakes.

“You and Smurf have the biggest showers. And I wasn’t about to my dick sucked in Smurf’s room,” Craig said as he pulled a beer from the fridge, opened it and took a swig. Daren felt sick just watching him, his hangover making his brain pulse.

“She’d probably want to join,” Baz piped up from his seat beside Daren at the kitchen counter.

Daren glared at him over his shoulder: “You’re disgusting.”

“Didn’t hear you disagreeing, though,” Baz snapped back, a smirk on his face. 

Daren shook his head. He’d always wondering how exactly his adopted brother saw Smurf: As a mother? As a friend? As a savior? As a demon? They’d always had a complicated relationship, Smurf and Baz. But, then again, Smurf had a complicated relationship with all of them. Except, perhaps, Craig, who was too busy spending her money on coke and cars to care. 

Daren took a sip of coffee, contemplating. “Where’s Smurf anyway?” He asked. 

“She went to see Pope,” Craig replied from across the room, his large body leaning now against the island, the beer still in his hand.

Daren nodded, thinking. Now was the time to ask the serious questions he’d wanted to ask last night but hadn’t found the time to: “Has he been sentenced yet?”

“He’s taking the plea,” Baz started. “Three years in prison, two on probation. It’s better than he’d get at trial.”

He took the plea. He took the plea. The words reverberated around Daren’s brain, caused acid to well up in his stomach. Finally, he asked the most important question of all: “He didn’t talk?”

The questions were coded: what Daren really wanted to, really needed, to know was whether or not they would be okay, whether or not the feds were onto them, whether or not they’d ever make money again. His life – all of their lives – depended on it.

“We’re good,” Baz stated plainly. Daren felt the tension leave his body, a tension that had been welling within him for months.

“We’re safe,” Craig echoed, a serious tone creeping into his voice that was seldom heard from him.

“Good,” Daren nodded. “Pope’s going to go fucking nuts in there,” he added.

“Pope’s already fucking nuts,” Craig laughed. Daren saw Baz smirk beside him.

But, they didn’t know. They didn’t know what it was like inside. They didn’t know the loneness, and the boredom, and the fear, didn’t know how isolation warped the mind, broke the heart, sullied the soul. Daren pitied Pope.

* * *

Adrian stared at the text on his phone: “Headed to the beach now. See you down there.” Sent from Daren minutes ago.

He’d just gotten back from brunch with his sister, had stupidly forgotten his phone had home. The whole drive, all Adrian had thought about was whether or not he’d have a text from Daren. He knew now that Daren wasn’t too hangover to remember they had a plan. Adrian was giddy. 

And yet, the conversation with his sister still sat in his mind. The crush, the crush he’d had on Daren for years, was getting out of hand. Coming out had changed things. All of a sudden, all of those fantasies he’d had in his head about settling down with someone seemed like a real possibility. All of a sudden, Daren seemed like a real possibility. Adrian had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t a possibility at all, that Daren wasn’t like him – at all. 

Continuing to stare at his phone, Adrian did something he never thought he’d do. He downloaded grinder. A few clicks later and he’d made a profile. A few more clicks and he had 10 matches. The messages came instantly: “Hey man, how’s it going”, “Hey there cutie”, “Nice body, man”, “You down to fuck?”

Adrian’s head swam. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, he knew he was a good looking guy, knew he was tall and muscular, knew his face was cute, knew that people found him attractive. 

Still, it was hard to wrap his head around someone actually wanting to have sex with him. He’d spent so many years halfheartedly chasing girls he didn’t actually want to date and then being upset when they rejected him. Somewhere along the way he’d forgotten what it was like to be desired. 

He took a chance, messaged a guy who didn’t seem like a complete asshole. A few minutes later and a date was arranged for later. 

Adrian smiled as he loaded his surfboard into his truck. This was the first step in getting over Daren, right?

* * *

The salt burned his eyes, his nose, his lips. He loved the feeling. Never before had he gone this long without seeing the ocean, without touching it, without tasting and smelling it. His wet hair clung in his forehead; he pushed it away with his hand in a motion so familiar he didn’t even think about it. He felt like himself again. 

He paddled out, his board flowing effortlessly over the waves, his arm muscles remembering their role. He was surprised by how quickly, how easily, the motions and balance returned to him. It was as simple as walking.

Daren paused. In the distance, he saw a wave worth waiting for, building on the horizon, running towards him. He steadied himself, readied himself to ride it for as long as he could. And when it came, he pushed himself up. He felt like he was floating. 

But, not for long. Within a few seconds, Daren found himself falling into the water, pushed and pulled beneath the beast he’d sought to conquer. Maybe it would take some practice to wear the rust off after all.

* * *

Pulling into the parking lot, Adrian saw the lime green Scout instantly. He smiled, remembering how Daren had begged his mom to buy it for his 16th birthday, how excited he’d looked when he actually got it, and how carefully he’d driven it for months, as if the car was made of glass. 

For his part, Adrian’s Dad had bought him his own beat up old truck. It wasn’t fancy or pretty but it did the trick: got him and his surfboard up and down the California Coast. As he had done so may times before, Adrian pulled that truck in beside the Scout. 

He changed quickly, eager to dip into the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean, eager to see Daren. As he walked towards the shore with his surfboard under his arm, he scanned the crowd, spotting his friend just in time to see him wipe out. Adrian laughed. 

“You’re looking a little rusty there, Cody,” Adrian grinned as he caught up to Daren in the surf. Daren smiled that familiar smile, that smile he had whenever he was in the water, whenever he was at ease.

“Yeah? That sounds like a challenge,” Daren joked back, extending his hand towards Adrian in greeting. Adrian slapped it.

“You should watch me, you might learn a thing or two.” There was lightness in Adrian’s voice but an edge also. Daren’s grin grew wider.

“That’s a lot of shit talk from someone who never beat me in competition. You gonna back up that mouth of yours or just run it all day?” Daren shouted above the waves as he paddled away from Adrian, eager, no doubt, to prove himself.

Adrian followed, followed Daren through the water as he had done 1000 times before. He would follow Daren anywhere; follow him to the end of the horizon if he could, where it would just the two of them, the sun in the sky, and the crystal blue sea beneath their boards. 

“Watch and learn, dude,” Adrian repeated. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Adrian heard Daren’s deep, playful laugh; sweet and rugged all at once, just like him.

* * *

“You looked good out there,” Daren commented. He sat now with Adrian on the beach, hours after delving into the water. A beer in his hand, his toes buried into the cool sand beneath the surface, hiding from the heat, and his best friend by his side. He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. 

“Yeah? I’ve been watching old videos of myself online. Trying to pick up some new tricks, see where I’ve been going wrong,” Daren heard Adrian reply, humble as always. He sipped his beer. 

“Man, I missed the internet in there,” Daren leaned back on the beach, feeling the warm sun warm is bare chest. 

“Did you have TV at least?” Daren watched Adrian take a sip of his beer after asking the question, watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, watched his chest inflate and deflate. When had the guy gotten so much muscle, Daren wondered. 

“Just one in the common area. It was always on the same channel. I watched so many damned episodes of The Price is Right,” Daren laughed. 

“Was it okay?” Adrian’s voice was suddenly softer, quieter. Daren didn’t understand.

“The Price is Right? It’s okay, I guess. But watch anything 10 times a day for months on end and you’ll be sick of it.”

Daren saw Adrian shake his head out of the corner of his eye, “No, was jail okay? Are you okay?” His friend clarified.

Daren sighed. Was it okay? Was he okay? He didn’t know how to speak the answer to that question, or how to think it. Jail was, above all, lonely. There was no one to talk to and too much time to think, to think about his life, his wasted dreams, his mistakes, his bargains. 

He had missed his brothers, his friends. Hell, he’d even missed Smurf’s company. And he’d missed his freedom. He’d always taken it for granted – the fact that he could do what he wanted when he wanted. He could sleep all day and party all night, eat pizza for a week straight, or drink 10 beers in an hour, he could surf until his legs ached and his lungs screamed for oxygen, he could talk, without having to measure every word. 

It was strange: he’d never thought of himself as someone who needed other people. He’d practically grown up on his own, forged his own path, welcoming companionship when it was offered – by Craig or Adrian mostly – but getting by without. Now, he realized how much he needed, how much he wanted, someone – anyone – to confide in. 

And yet, he kept his answer short: “It was fine. I’m fine.” Vulnerability wasn’t in the Cody’s vocabulary.

* * *

“It was fine. I’m fine,” Daren’s words lingered in Adrian’s head. It didn’t seem fine; he didn’t seem fine.

Adrian could see it now, the way jail had changed Daren. Or, perhaps he had changed years ago, when he’d given up surfing professionally, when he’d given up his dreams. The shift was gradual but obvious to anyone who knew Daren like Adrian did: his smile came less often, his words less freely. His posture, his body, all of it had changed too: Daren was guarded now, as if constantly keeping a secret, as if constantly protecting himself from some unseen attack.

Adrian wanted nothing more than to ease his mind, soothe his worries. But, how can you reassure a man when you don’t know what he’s hiding? How can you reach out when every gesture pushes him further away? How can you help a man when he refuses to acknowledge he’s hurt? 

Adrian sighed. 

“I missed you, you know,” he confessed, turning his head away from Daren to hide his eyes, which he knew, revealed just how true that statement was. 

“Yeah?” Adrian heard the hitch in Daren’s voice, wondered what it meant but knew he would never understand.

“Yeah,” Adrian’s voice was nearly a whisper.

* * *

Truth be told, Daren missed Adrian too. Missed him even now, as they sat side by side. He felt a wedge between them, a space for words that were left unsaid. Adrian felt distant, as if his mind was a million miles away, thinking thoughts that it wouldn’t share with Daren.

“What’s been going on with you, man? We barely got to talk last night,” Daren tried, tried to bridge the gap.

“Honestly, not much. Tao’s got me working like 10 hours a day, six days a week. The money’s good but I don’t really have time for anything else,” Adrian explained. 

“What about that girl? That one you were chasing when I got locked up? What was her name? Anna? Alice? Anything ever happen with that?” 

Daren opened another beer, took a long gulp, remembering how Adrian had always been with girls: he’d find one he liked, go on a few dates maybe, and it would fizzle out in weeks. Somehow the guy never seemed to get lucky, despite the fact that Daren knew girls found Adrian attractive, despite the fact that Daren knew he found Adrian attractive, in a strictly platonic way, of course. 

“Nah, we hung out for a bit but nothing really happened,” Daren heard Adrian start. “But, I, uh, I have a date tonight.” 

Daren watched Adrian carefully then, watched as he avoided eye contact, as he fidgeted with the label on his beer bottle, as he bit his bottom lip, as his eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking hard. If Daren didn’t know any better, he would say the guy was nervous. But, he’d never known Adrian to be nervous for a date; apathetic, yes – anxious, never. 

“What’s her name?” Daren asked, interested now to hear about the girl who could rattle Adrian like that.

“Uhh…,” Adrian hesitated, Daren looked on expectantly. “Ugh… It’s, ” Adrian started again, “His name is Mike.”

Daren watched, waited, as Adrian let out a long breath. He looked at Daren then, his eyes, it seemed, pleading, pleading for him to understand. Daren opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’ve been trying to piece all of this shit together in my head for years. Finally figured it out. I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I just…”

“What?” Daren could feel the blood rushing to his brain, could hear his own pulse in his ears, creating a sound vacuum. 

“I understand if you don’t want to be friends,” Adrian repeated, his voice trembling slightly. Daren could barely focus on it. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to be friends?” Daren knew his voice sounded panicked, angry, and hurt all at once. He urged himself to calm the fuck down. 

“I’m gay,” Adrian answered simply, taking a long sip of his beer afterwards. 

Daren copied him, holding the liquid in his mouth. For some reason, he felt his cheeks turn red, his stomach churn with anxiety. For some reason, he felt as though he had revealed a secret too. 

His mind went back then, back to an image he refused to acknowledge for so many years: he and his 8th grade classmate jerking each other off while watching gay porn in his empty house. He’d asked Pope to beat the guy for him, as if causing him pain would somehow end Daren’s own pain, as if forcing the memory from the other guy’s mind would somehow remove it from his. 

Since then, Daren had only faltered once, had only given into those unacknowledged urges once. But, he’d been in jail, and everyone screws around in jail, right? Besides, Daren reminded himself, he’d fucked his fair share of women. 

“Daren?” Adrian’s shaky voice ripped Daren away from his own thoughts. 

“You’re gay. I’m a felon. We’re still here, aren’t we?” Daren replied, trying to remind Adrian that of the two of them, Daren was the bad guy, not Adrian. Never Adrian. 

Daren saw Adrian smile slightly, “You’re cool with it?”

“Yeah. Hell, maybe you’ll get luckier with guys than you ever did with girls,” Daren replied lightly, “What’s Mike’s deal, anyway?” 

“I don’t really know, actually. I met him online. There aren’t a lot of gay dudes walking around in Oceanside, you know? He’s hot though,” Adrian confessed.

Hot, eh? The word struck a cord with Daren. He couldn’t help the images that flooded his mind: some ripped guy kissing Adrian, pushing him up against a wall, pulling his shirt off, throwing him onto the bed, climbing on top of him, taking him, over and over and over again. 

Daren felt the feeling then – one that he hadn’t felt in a long time – welling up from deep inside him, clouding his mind and causing his stomach to drop: jealousy. He didn’t understand, what was there to be jealous of? The guy? Adrian? Daren shook his head – no. He must just be jealous of the fact that Adrian was going to get some action and he wasn’t. Daren gritted his teeth, swallowing the feeling, burying it deep inside him, thinking to himself that he had to get laid.

* * *

Adrian smiled as he made the short drive from Oceanside to Vista. He was excited, excited for his date, but more excited that he’d somehow found the courage to tell Daren the truth. And, as far as he could tell, Daren had taken it well. The two had sat for hours on the beach after his secret was revealed, talking and joking, watching the sky fill with reds and purples as the sun set slowly. 

He could feel the cool wind blowing through his hair, smell the familiar scent of salt and dry earth, hear the low music on the radio just above the hum of traffic. His body felt light, as if the weight of a long held burden had been removed. He felt free. 

He parked away from the bar, taking a moment to steady himself as he walked down the quiet street. It was the first time he’d actually gone on a date with a guy. All of his other hookups he’d met in bars; they were one-night stands that never pretended to be anything different. This, though, might have potential. 

As he rounded the corner, Adrian scanned the crowded patio. The guy was easy to spot: he sat by himself, looking around wide-eyed, nervous. Adrian approached slowly, eyeing him up and down. 

Disappointment – that was his initial thought. The guy was wearing a light pink polo shirt and loose fitting khaki pants, an outfit Adrian wouldn’t exactly describe as good. Nevertheless, the stranger’s smile was friendly and his brown eyes twinkled as Adrian sat down across from him. 

“You’re Mike, right?” He double-checked. 

“Yes,” the guy reached out to shake Adrian’s hand, a gesture that struck him as odd and overly formal. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to sit outside or inside. I hope this okay, I’m sorry if I assumed wrong. If it’s not okay, we can move. I just thought because it’s such a nice night…” Adrian nodded as Mike rambled. 

Despite his promise to himself that he wouldn’t do It, Adrian compared the guy to the one who had occupied so much of his imagination lately: Daren. 

He pictured Daren’s long hair, his scruffy face, his tank tops, and jeans, his arms adorned with tattoos. And he pictured how Daren would likely carry himself on a first date: how confident Daren would be, how unapologetic, how bold. 

Daren had always had a take it or leave it attitude; he accommodated no one, he took shit from no one. Sure, Adrian knew Daren was an asshole, but he’d never been as desperate as Mike now sounded. And Adrian had a thing for assholes. 

Still, he reassured his date: “It’s good. I like it outside.” 

“Do you want a drink? I’ve ordered a glass of wine,” Mike offered, gesturing to the drink menu in front of Adrian. He scanned it, looking for his favourite beer. He ordered it as quickly as possible, wanting, already, to leave.

* * *

“You want another shot of tequila?” Craig shouted in Daren’s ear. He could barely hear his brother’s voice over the loud music. 

“Yeah, man,” Daren shouted back, “Get me two, okay?”

Daren saw Craig nod as he turned and walked towards the bar, leaving him on his own in the crowded nightclub. The two had arrived an hour or so before with one mission in mind: get Daren laid. 

Now, as he started to feel that familiar and welcomed buzz, he scanned the room. Beside him, a group of girls danced together in a circle. They all looked alike, Daren thought, in skin-tight dresses and high heels, with their straightened hair and made up faces. Daren knew he should be interested but he couldn’t seem to get his mind to focus. 

“Yo, that girl’s been checking you out since we got here,” Craig shouted as he returned to Daren’s side, gesturing a little too obviously with his shot-glass filled hand to the dancing girls beside them. 

“Oh, yeah? Which one?” Daren took his drinks from Craig. 

“That one with the dark hair. She keeps looking over here.” Daren turned his head slightly, eyeing the girl. She was the tallest of her friends, and the prettiest, her long brown hair and tan skin accentuating her bright blue eyes. She caught his look and smiled. Daren smiled back. 

“Cheers, man!” Craig held up his glass, “to freedom and getting laid!” Daren held up his shots in a salute to his brother, happy to have Craig on his side. He downed them one after another, laughing as he finished. 

“Go dance with her man! What are you waiting for,” Daren nearly fell as Craig pushed him roughly towards the group of girls. To steady himself, he reached out and grabbed the closet thing: the tall girl’s shoulders. Immediately, her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in to her. Daren swayed his hips to the beat. Maybe this would be easier than he thought.

* * *

“So,” Mike sipped his wine, “what do you do?” 

Adrian took a long glug of beer. Small talk, getting to know people – he’d always hated both. 

“I work in a surf shop, mostly fixing old boards. I’m trying to get on a circuit though, go professional,” Adrian answered, studying Mike up close. Adrian had to admit the guy was handsome, but the lines of his face revealed his age; older, Adrian guessed, than his profile indicated. 

“That’s cool. I’ve never been surfing,” Adrian watched as Mike settled into his seat. He, too, tried to relax but couldn’t get comfortable. He felt out of place in the upscale restaurant. Adrian’s beers usually came from coolers on the beach, his food from trucks lining the boardwalk, his entertainment from fucked up friends at bonfires. And that was the way he liked it. 

“Oh yeah? Where’d you grow up?” It was always weird to Adrian when he met someone who had never surfed. Surfing, to him, came as naturally as walking, as easily as breathing. 

“Here in Vista,” Adrian knew his face looked surprised. Mike elaborated: “I was always more focused on school than anything else. Even when I was young.”

Adrian nodded. “So, what do you do?”

“I’m an accountant. I file taxes for people primarily.” 

He felt duped. The guy’s profile had been filled with pictures of him on the beach, his tan chest muscled and thin, his legs thick and hairy, exposed by short swim trunks. He looked completely different in person; he looked completely wrong for Adrian.

* * *

Near frantic hands pulled him into the washroom by the front of his shirt. He heard the steel door slam behind him, heard her reach out and clasp the lock. She pushed him gently back against the cool metal. He rested his head against it.

Her lips were all over him, sucking and biting the skin beneath his beard. Her fingers roamed down his chest, over his abdomen, encircling him, drawing him closer. He reached around her, his fingers finding her ass, squeezing it, pulling her into him, his crotch grinding against her thigh. She moaned lightly. 

Her hands traveller further down now, cupping him, rubbing his groin. Daren urged his mind to concentrate on the sensations. It wouldn’t. 

“What’s wrong?” He felt her frown into his neck, felt her hot breath on his skin. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. 

Despite her closeness, despite his grinding, it simply wasn’t working. It had never happened before; Daren had always been able to perform when it counted, had always been able to get hard when he wanted. And now, his dick was as limp as it would be if he were watching a porno staring Smurf.

She stepped away from him, eyeing him up and down. “You wanna stop?” Daren couldn’t meet her eyes, couldn’t face the look of disappointment.

“Shit,” he whispered under his breath, running his hand through his long hair, trying to get a grip. 

“It’s okay. We can just make out,” The girl tried again.

“Fuck,” Daren repeated. “I must be drunker than I thought.”

“I won’t tell anyone. C’mon, let’s just hook up,” Her voice sounded sweet as she stepped closer again, running one of her fingers along Daren’s cheek, down towards his neck. 

He couldn’t breath. He had to leave. It wasn’t going to happen. His mind – it was somewhere else entirely, with someone else entirely. 

“I gotta go,” he said quickly. He didn’t wait for her reply. He simply turned, unlatched the door, and let it slam him behind him. Daren heard her curse, alone in the bathroom.

He pushed quickly through the crowd, seeing Craig in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded, as usual, by a group of girls. 

“I’m gonna go,” Daren shouted as he neared.

“Dude! The party just started. What happened in there?” Craig shouted back.

“I don’t know, man. I feel all weird. My head’s all fucked. You want a ride?” 

“Nah, man. I’ll find a ride later. Can’t leave now,” Craig replied, a smile bright on his face, his hands roaming all over the body of the girl nearest to him. Why, Daren thought for the first time in his life, couldn’t he be more like Craig?

* * *

The loud knock made him jump. It was just after midnight, just after he’d returned from his lackluster date. He wasn’t expecting company. Nevertheless, the knocking persisted; sharp, rhythmic, staccato bangs. His roommate Chad was gone, Adrian knew. He walked to the door, slowly, cautiously. 

“Hey,” Daren’s voice sounded tired, sad. His face looked wearily at Adrian through the screen door. 

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Adrian opened the door to let Daren inside.

“You want to hang out?” He sounded defeated.

“Sure,” Adrian closed the door behind Daren, followed him through his house. He watched as Daren collapsed on his bed, his hands resting on his stomach, his eyes searching the ceiling for who knows what. 

“Are you drunk?” Adrian could smell the alcohol as he sat down beside Daren. 

“Little bit,” Daren confessed, turning his head to look at Adrian, a sheepish smile on his face.

“And you drove here?” Adrian asked incredulously. He always hated when Daren drove drunk. 

“Didn’t die, did I?” The sheepish smile grew wider. Adrian sighed.

“I thought you went out with Craig tonight. You were all hyped about picking up girls when you left.” 

Adrian recognized his mistake immediately. Daren closed off – literally. He rolled away from Adrian, pulling his knees up his chest, isolating himself, protecting himself. 

“I don’t know, man. My head’s all fucked up, you know?” Daren’s reply was quiet, slow.

“I guess jail will do that to you,” Adrian mumbled.

He had a sneaky suspicion, though, that jail wasn’t to blame for Daren’s mood. It some something else entirely, Adrian thought, something deeper, although what exactly, he couldn’t guess. 

“How was the date?” Daren asked after a pause, rolling once again onto his back, inviting, Adrian thought, more conversation.

“It was lame,” Adrian laughed, thinking about how they’d spent the majority of the evening talking about tax policy. “The guy was a dweeb.” 

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be as cool as cool as you,” Daren’s blue eyes pierced Adrian’s as he said it. He smirked. 

He’d never thought of himself as cool, at least not compared to the Cody brothers, who, everyone in Oceanside agreed, were probably the coolest guys around. And the most dangerous, but that was another story. 

“You want to watch a movie or something? I can’t think straight,” Daren asked suddenly. As he did, he brought his hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes and brushing his hair back. Adrian watched as the tan skin on Daren’s stomach was exposed, the little trail of hair leading down below his belt. He’d seen Daren shirtless a million times, and yet now, it seemed more intimidate, it seemed like he could reach out and touch his abs, his chest, his face. Adrian clenched his fists, reminding himself to keep his hands close.

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning his head back against his headboard, averting his eyes entirely.

Moments later, the two sat side by side on Adrian’s bed, propped up against the pillows. The sound of Jack Nicholson’s voice filled the room. Adrian looked over at Daren. He was already asleep.

* * *

His eyes fluttered open. Beyond the blinds that covered the nearby window, Daren could see the sun beginning to rise in the sky, filling the room with a warm, blue hue.

He rolled over, shielding himself from the oncoming morning. Beside him, he saw Adrian’s sleeping body, the covers rolled down to his waist. Daren watched him, watched as his chest rose and fell slowly with his breath, watched as his eyelids flutter on his peaceful face. He noticed all the details: the messy hair, he slight stubble on Adrian’s chin, the curve of his collar bones and his shoulders, the bulk of his arms, his pecs, dusted with fine hair, his flat stomach, his pale skin. Daren felt his dick stir. 

Absent mindedly, he ran his hand down his own flat stomach, feeling the muscles beneath his cotton T-shirt. His fingers slipped under his boxers, felt the heat rising there. 

And then suddenly, he realized exactly what he’d been doing, what he’d been thinking about as he rubbed his body, who he’d been thinking about. And Daren panicked, urging himself to stop. 

He got out the bed quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping body beside him. A cool shower would do the trick. He walked to the washroom, stripping off his shirt and pants, locking the door behind him.

Stepping under the warm water, Daren felt his muscles and his mind relax. And yet, his dick still pressed against his stomach, begging for the attention that Daren had long withheld. He gripped it tightly, swirling his finger over the head, rubbing his palm along its length. 

His mind wandered. Wandered to the scene he had walked in on the morning before, of a girl on her knees in front of Craig. Wandered to the night before: the pretty, tall brunette so eager to suck him off. He pictured her there with him, her long hair clinging to her wet back, her plump lips engulfing his cock. Still, Daren’s hand went up and down, up and down.

And then, the image changed. It wasn’t the girl on her knees in front of him, but Adrian. He could almost feel it. Feel Adrian’s large, callused fingers gripping his thighs, holding him steady. Feel Adrian’s short hair in his hands as he pulled him closer. Feel Adrian’s stubble tickling the underside of his dick, his balls. Feel Adrian’s hot mouth tasting him, taking him, devouring him. His hand moved faster, up and down, up and down. He was close. 

Daren came. Hard, harder than he had in months. He watched as his cum trickled down the shower tile. His legs felt weak as his orgasm subsided.

“Fuck,” Daren breathed, a breath of relief and a breath of anguish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Please leave kudos and/or comments if you enjoyed this chapter :)


	3. Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tigger Warning: This chapter talks about domestic abuse (not between Adrian + Deran or towards Adrian or Deran). Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

The feeling of fullness – that’s how he would describe it. And that odd mixture of pleasure and pain, the one that he was becoming more and more accustomed to. Pain upon entry, and then the fullness, and then, when the angle was just right, pleasure coursing through him. He felt it now: once, twice, again and again, pounding into him, causing a moan to escape his lips.

Harder now. And faster. He braced himself on his elbows, swaying backwards to meet every thrust. Hot, sweaty hands ran up and down his back, gripping his sides, puling him in. His legs were shaky despite their strength. 

He buckled forwards, burying his face into a pillow, wanting friction, wanting traction. His hand found his dick now, pulling it in time to the movement of his hips. He was close.

“I’m getting close,” the low, gruff voice said above him. Who did it belong to? Adrian couldn’t remember his name. The guy’s thrusts became frantic jerks; Adrian’s hand kept pace.

They came together with quiet gasps. Emptiness now as the guy pulled out and then heaviness as he collapsed on top of him. Adrian felt a smoldering kiss on his shoulder.

“That was hot,” the voice said in his year as a tongue licked his sweaty neck.

* * *

The air was hot for the season – too hot. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. He wiped them away with a heavy hand, plastering his long hair behind his ears.

He waited and he watched. Watched as the old man left his house at the break of dawn, poodle by his side. Watched as they circled the block, again and again, impossibly slowly. The dog stopped every now and then to sniff a tree, a bush, a gate. The old man stood by patiently. 

It was nearly 7 AM when the two returned for good, ambled up the driveway and retreated into the dark, empty house. Deran was astonished at their precision: everyday the same time, the same walk, the same routine. 

Minutes later a car pulled up, parked on the street outside. He sat lower in his seat, eyes focused on the rearview mirror. A young woman in a crisp blue uniform approached the old man’s door. He could hear the poodles’ excited barks. The woman was welcomed inside.

Still, Deran watched and waited. Watched and waited as he had for days.

* * *

“Do you want to stay for breakfast? I make a mean plate of scrambled eggs.”

Adrian looked at him: his long body sprawled on the bed, his dark skin still glistening with sweat, his face smiling. 

“I can’t. I have to be at work soon,” Adrian answered as the pulled on his underwear. He looked around for his shirt and pants, not knowing where they had landed in his haste to strip the night before.

“I could give you a ride,” the guy propped himself up on his elbow, giving Adrian’s nearly naked body the once over. Adrian could see his dick stirring again.

“I’ll walk,” he replied flatly. 

It would take an hour to get to the shop on foot. And yet, Adrian knew that if he accepted breakfast, accepted a ride, then he would have to accept far more. He wasn’t ready for more.

“Can I get your number at least?” The guy asked, finally covering himself with a pillow. Adrian was nearly dressed.

“Sure.” He scribbled a number down on a scrap of paper on the guy’s desk. Except, it wasn’t his number.

He didn’t want that. Didn’t want calls and texts, dates and dinners, feelings and worries. He just wanted to get fucked. Plain and simple, hard and fast, no string attached.

“See you later, man,” Adrian said as he left the apartment, knowing with certainty that they would never see each other again.

* * *

“Where’ve you been, man?” The voice startled Deran. It was early still; he expected the house to be quiet, his brothers and his mother sleeping softly. Instead, Craig sat at the kitchen counter, a credit card in his hand, a line of coke in front of him.

“I, uh, went for an early surf,” Deran lied. He walked over to the fridge, opened a beer. It was too early to be drinking, he knew. But, the stress was getting to him – it was fueling his benders, fueling his misplaced rage.

“Oh yeah?” Craig paused rub the dust on his finger into his gums. “Because your board’s out back. Didn’t know you could surf without it.”

Deran cursed himself quietly. He should have been more careful; should have checked his brothers’ rooms before leaving. Craig was still wearing the clothes he’d had on the night before. Clearly, he’d just arrived home, noticed the missing Scout, snooped around. 

Deran gulped. Half the truth would do: “I couldn’t sleep.” He ran his hand through his hair, knowing he looked as exhausted as he felt. “I just needed to clear my head, go for a drive.” After a pause, he mumbled quietly: “I think I’m depressed, man. I can’t concentrate on anything.”

He sat now beside Craig, feeling his body hunch under its own weight. He and Craig didn’t talk about this kind of stuff – about feelings and worries, about life and the burdens that came with it. But, Deran had no one else to turn to now. 

“This have anything to do with Adrian?” His brother asked. 

Deran felt his cheeks go red at the mention of his friend’s name.

“What’d you mean?” He tried to play it cool, hoping Craig wouldn’t notice his blushing face, his sweaty palm, his wild eyes. 

“I ran into him last night down on the beach,” Craig started. “He said he hadn’t seen you in months, said you’ve been avoiding him.” 

Deran could feel Craig’s accusatory glare burning into the side of his face. He refused to turn and meet it. 

“You got a problem with him being gay or something? Man, I thought you were better than that,” Deran could hear the disappointment in Craig’s voice, the vague threat. 

“Nah, man,” It took all of his effort to keep his voice steady, to ward off the threat, “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy? All I’ve seen you do for months is sit around here getting wasted,” Deran knew Craig wasn’t wrong. Still, his blood boiled.

“At least I’m not putting hundreds of dollars of coke up my nose every night. One of us has a problem and it sure as hell isn’t me,” Deran’s voice was quiet still but there was menace in it. 

“You know what? Fuck you, man. I’m trying to tell you I’m worried about you and you’re fucking attacking me?” Craig was loud now, loud enough to take up their mother. Seemingly aware of the risk, he softened as he finished: “Just tell me what the fuck is going on with you.” 

“Nothing. Forget it, man. I’m fine,” his reply came through clenched teeth. 

He turned then, staring beyond the kitchen to the pool outside, staring away from Craig. His hair acted like a shield, hiding his face. If his brother had looked closely, he would have seen the light tears well up in Deran’s eyes. He coughed, coughed back his emotions, his shame, his stress, his anger, his desire, his hatred. 

From behind him, he heard Craig slam his hands on the counter, let out a sigh, get up and leave. He was alone again. Always alone, lately.

* * *

Adrian walked slowly through the dusty side streets, the back alleys, and parking lots he knew so well. It was a funny thing: he couldn’t tell you the name of half of the streets in Oceanside and yet he could walk them with his eyes closed and still get where he was going.

He looked at the ground now, studying his feet in quiet contemplation. What had happened? He didn’t know. One day they were fine, watching a movie and joking around. The next it was radio silence – no response to his texts, no calls back, no surfing, no drinking, no hanging out.

Three months ago he had seen Deran’s Scout pull into the boardwalk parking lot as he walked from the water. But, before he’d had time to raise his hand in a wave, his friend had screeched away. He had stopped trying then, stopped trying to bridge the distance.

It felt to him like was like Deran was still in prison: no contact with the outside world. And yet, Adrian missed him more now. Prison wasn’t a choice – this was. And Deran’s choice was loud and clear – no Adrian. 

He vowed to move on with his life, forget his friend, leave him behind. And yet, when he was alone like this, his mind wandered back to Deran. 

He pictured his face, smiling in the waves, his body relaxed on the board, his voice joyful over the loud roar of the wind. Adrian wondered whether he would ever see that guy again. Or, was that Deran dead now? Dead to him at least?

* * *

Truth be told, Adrian was right: he had been avoiding him – avoiding his calls and texts, avoiding the surf shop and the beach, avoiding the bars downtown and their usual hangouts.  
He’d been avoiding him for nearly six months, so long that Deran knew Adrian had stopped trying. There was nothing now – just emptiness in that place where Adrian had once been. 

It had started that morning. 

Deran could still remember it perfectly: remember waking up in Adrian’s bed, his smell all around him, his body so close he could feel its heat, the sound of his breathing filling the air.

And he could remember the shower: his legs shivering through an orgasm as he thought about Adrian’s mouth on his dick. He had felt the shame – the shame that plagued his every waking hour ever since – almost immediately. His curt words to a sleepy Adrian were perhaps the last the two would ever share. He’d fled quickly – regrettably, thankfully.

Since then, the images kept creeping in just like they had that day.

Deran would be fucking a girl, her body laid out beneath him, her long hair clinging around her shoulders, down onto her breasts. He would look at her with lust in his eyes, convinced that this time his thoughts would focus. 

But then, the pictures would take form: it wouldn’t be her but Adrian beneath him – his broad, lightly hairy chest sprawled out on the bed, his short messy hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes gleaming brightly.

Her hands would roam over his back, nails digging in; her thin, long legs would find their way up onto his shoulders. His hands would rub her soft, smooth tummy. 

Except in his mind it wasn’t her at all: it was Adrian – his large, rough hands squeezing Deran’s sides, his heavy, hairy legs balanced on Deran’s back, his dick bounding on his toned stomach, Deran’s hand rubbing it.

He hated it. Hated the images and hated that he couldn’t get them to stop. Hated that even now, as he lay on his bed in the early hours of the morning – deprived of sleep, exhausted from scouting and from his argument with Craig – they were vivid enough to make him hard.

And he hated Adrian. Hated what Adrian had done to him, how he’d unraveled him, how he’d made him hate himself. And, he hated that no matter how he tried, he couldn’t actually hate Adrian at all.

* * *

“Hey,” he poked his head around the corner to find Tao buried in paperwork in his office. The guy looked stressed. “You need anything before I head out?” He asked. 

He watched Tao shake his head, eyes never leaving the desk in front of him.

“We got the rent covered?” Adrian questioned, leaning his body on the doorframe. 

It was always their concern this time of year – the rent, when and if they could pay it. The shop raked in its money during the summer months, when tourists down from LA swarmed the beaches, when boards broke daily and cash flowed easily. 

It was almost winter now: the days shorter, the sky perpetually overcast, and the ocean just a little too cold for the average surfer. Things had quieted down. In a way, Adrian was happy – no more 12 hour shifts, no more long nights, or one-day rushes. But in another way, he worried. And he knew Tao worried too. 

“Yeah, we’re good on rent,” Tao looked up from his paperwork to glance at Adrian, an embarrassed and guilty look on his face. “I can’t pay you until the end of the month, though. Sorry, man.”

Adrian had expected it, had prepared for it. He had some cash saved up in apartment – money for a rainy day.

He wasn’t mad at all. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d left his Dad’s house for good, not a penny to his name and no plan at all. Tao had offered to train him at the shop. Adrian had been determined to make it on his own. And, for the most part, he had. All thanks to Tao. 

“It’s cool, man. Pay me when you can,” he smiled to show his sincerity. Tao smiled back, obviously relieved. 

The faint sound of a car horn honking outside interrupted their intimate moment. He knew he had to go. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man,” he said as he hoisted his bag over his shoulder. From the corner of his eye as he turned away, Adrian saw Tao wave his hand, a gesture of goodbye and goodwill. 

He walked out of the shop, eyes adjusting to the darkening evening. Just as he expected, the car was waiting.

* * *

Smoke hung in the cramped car; smoke that came from the cigarette in his hand and the air in his lungs. The smell clung to him, to his hair and to his clothes. He liked it. 

His eyes watched through the rearview mirror, just as they had done that morning, just as they had done the night before. The sky was a deep blue now, the kind of blue that makes everything hazy and difficult to see. He squinted, watching as the woman left the house just after 7 PM. She looked tired.

As expected, the old man emerged moments later, poodle at his side. Together they walked, round and round, impossibly slowly. 

He timed it closely. 12 minutes: it took them 12 minutes to round the block, hidden from his view. And then 4 minutes: 4 minutes to walk the street the house was centered on, the street he was on, watching and waiting. Three times: three times round they went, morning and evening, before locking themselves up in the house. 48 minutes: 48 minutes in total that the place was empty.

Deran was bored by the monotony of it all. And yet, he wasn’t complaining: it made his job that much easier.

* * *

The beachfront restaurant was crowded when they arrived. Surfers lounged in deck chairs, hair still wet from a day in the water. Beside them, young families dined with apologetic faces and screaming children. The waiters darted about quickly, too busy for unnecessary friendliness. 

They found a table near the back of the patio, ordered quickly, sat patiently. This had always been their favourite spot.

“When do you leave again?” Adrian asked his dad. It had been awhile since they’d seen each other. Life, it seemed, had gotten in the way. Or, perhaps it was just that they didn’t make the time. 

They were never that close – father and son. Adrian knew why. Rather than take after his dad, Adrian was his mother’s son: he had her eyes and her smile, her reddish hair and her pale skin, her height and her slenderness. Sometimes he caught his father looking at him with sorrow, not seeing his son but the woman who had broken his heart. Adrian had always felt guilty about it. 

“My plane leaves in like,” Adrian watched as his father checked his watch, “two hours.” 

“Say ‘hi’ to Grandpa and Grandma for me.” 

It used to a family thing – the trip to Alabama to see Grandma and Grandpa once a year. They’d all pile into the old van with three days worth of snacks and CDs, stopping at cheap motels along the way. He’d always looked forward to the road trips. Now, Adrian’s father made the journey alone by plane to visit his aging parents.

His dad nodded in reply. A comfortable silence and the smell of grease from the fried chicken on their plates filled the air. 

Adrian watched a nearby couple smile lovingly at one another, a young baby in the woman’s arms. Sometimes he felt sad about it – the fact that his mother had abandoned the family before he was even out of diapers. 

But then again, while he’d missed out on homemade cookies and goodnight kisses, he’d had the kind of independence few kids have. He had always been able to stay out late and leave for days at a time, to drink whenever he wanted and smoke weed in his backyard. His dad was too busy to care. And, he had Jess. She was always enough of a mom for him. 

Adrian thought now about how he and Deran had bonded over it. Everyone around them had two perfect parents living perfect lives in a beautiful beachside town. He and Deran were from broken homes. It meant they had something in common, even when they were too young to have any common interests at all. 

Adrian looked at his father, wondering what would happen if he said the words he so desperately wanted to say. If he told his dad that he was gay and that his best friend, the guy who he’d had a crush on for years, had suddenly stopped talking to him. What if he told his dad how lonely and rejected he felt? 

Nothing good, he answered to himself. He kept his mouth shut. His anguish would be his and his alone.

* * *

“Nice of you to join us, Deran,” The slight laugh in Smurf’s greeting was undercut by a palpable tone of censure. 

“Sorry I’m late, I was busy,” he excused himself. He’d been late everyday this week, had lied every day this week about where he’d been. He felt bad about it, but only because he was worried he’d get caught. 

Nobody talked or ate as Deran took his seat across from Baz and Craig in the outdoor dining area. As if under a spell, the boys waited until Smurf gave the cue that dinner was officially served. 

She sat at the head of the table as she always did, a visual representation of her role as matriarch. Despite the fact that the guys were grown, they still looked to their mother with reverence and fear. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her gaze penetrating. 

Deran was cautious. Reverence and fear – that’s how he felt too. Reverence because she had taught him everyone he knew: how to survive on the streets, how to steal a car and launder money, how to choke down the guilt and pressure that came with living a life of a crime. And fear because she could take it all away. 

“I want you to collect the rent at Carlsbad tomorrow, Deran.” Her words were accompanied by a menacing glare.

Deran rolled his eyes but acquiesced: “Fine,” he said aloud.

They all knew the Carlsbad apartments, all tried to avoid them. The tenants were always low on rent and each and every one of them had a time-consuming sob story to tell. Collecting there could easily take hours. This, Deran knew, was his punishment. 

“If you don’t want to, I’m sure Craig would be happy to take your place,” Smurf smiled as she looked around the table but the smile didn’t reach her hard eyes. Finally, her gaze settled once again on her youngest son: “And your cut.” 

Deran clenched his jaw; his shoulders were tense, his stomach queasy. “I said I’d do it, Smurf.” He hated her games. 

Her genuine smirk broke the stone mask of her face. In an instant, her persona went from hard criminal to doting mother. She’d won and she knew it. 

“Let’s dig in then, boys. Who wants some mashed potatoes?” She said. Deran watched as his brothers visibly relaxed, arms outstretched to fill their plates.

* * *

He couldn’t help himself as he typed the words into the search bar: “Deran Cody WQS”. He clicked on the first video. Within seconds, there Deran was – the friend he hadn’t seen in months but who lived mere minutes away. 

Deran looked young in the video, young and small on the tiny screen. The announcer’s voice blared through his headphones, describing vividly every move he made in the water. 

He was good, Adrian knew, too good to have given up so quickly and so soon. He rode with a naturalness and ease seldom seen amongst Professional surfers as if he was impervious to the stress and pressure of competition. Adrian envied him.

He couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the day of this particular event. It had been hot and humid but the waves were roaring. Adrian had gone first, washing out before he’d even gotten started. Deran had gone last. While they watched the surfers compete between their slots, the two had sat side by side on the beach, smoking a joint and making fun of those around them. 

Now, lost in his wistful memories of days gone by, Adrian almost missed the buzzing of his phone. When he looked at the screen, he didn’t recognize the number. He pushed his headphones down around his neck, picking up the call just in time: “Hello?” 

“Adrian Dolan?” The voice on the other end asked. 

“Yes?” He paused the video, paused the image of Deran just as he walked towards the camera, surfboard tucked under this arm.   
“You’re related to Jessica Dolan, is that correct?” 

Adrian felt his heart skip a beat. Instinctively, he knew something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. 

“Yeah. Is she okay?” He sounded frantic and he knew it.

“This is Donna Johnson calling from Tri-City Medical Center. Unfortunately, there’s been an incident…” 

He felt his stomach drop, his vision blur. The nurses’ explanation of the “incident” was drowned out by the dull throbbing in his ears. 

Within seconds he was up, searching wildly around his room for his keys, his shoes, his wallet. As he ran to his car, he heard only snippets of the kind, calm voice on the other end of the line: “heavy bleeding,” “stiches,” “concussion”, “broken nose”, “emerge.”

If you asked him later how he’d gotten to the hospital – what route he’d taken or how fast he’d driven – he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. He didn’t know where he parked, whom he talked to, or how he found her. 

Later, he’d remember only one image: his sister’s tiny body on the hospital gurney, tubes coming out of her arms, her face so swollen she could barely open her eyes, bandages on her head, dried blood on her t-shirt. 

And he’d remember crying. Adrian didn’t know he could cry like that: the kind of cries that aren’t accompanied by tears, just jerky breaths and a heaving chest. Despite the doctor’s reassurance that his sister would be okay, Adrian cried. He cried because he didn’t protect her, because he didn’t save her, because he didn’t even help her. He cried and he cried and cried. 

And he called. He called his Dad a dozen times but each ring was met with the answering machine: “This is Niko Dolan, leave a message at the beep.”

His dad, he knew, was miles above the earth, completely out of reach. Adrian desperately needed someone – anyone – to sooth his worried mind.

* * *

It was late. Or rather, it was early. He sat in the Scout looking out at the empty boardwalk, the empty beach, the empty ocean, and the empty sky. He felt empty too. 

As it had so often lately, his mind drifted to Adrian. 

He went through phases: phases where the thought of his friend made his blood boil and his stomach churn; phases where he missed the guy more than he could understand; phases where he dialed his number only to back out when he heard it ring; and phases where he walked around with a distinct paranoia, avoiding Adrian like the plague. 

He was out of control, he knew. His moods shifted constantly from lust to anger to annoyance to remorse to loneliness, all within the same day, the same hour, the same minute. Losing Adrian, it seemed, had made him lose himself too. 

As he focused on the nothingness in front of him, he felt his phone buzz against his thigh. His stomach dropped when he recognized the number. 

Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or the silence of the beach, or the longing in his heart just then, or perhaps it was just some instinctual, primordial, guttural feeling that told he had absolutely had to answer. Either way, Deran did what he hadn’t done in months – he picked up a call from Adrian. 

“Hi,” he breathed.

“I’m sorry,” those were Adrian’s first words to him after months of silence. When he thought about it later, they said everything: Adrian was, above all, forgiving, kind, cautious, conscientious. Adrian was, above all, a far better man than he.

But his friend didn’t stop there: “I know you don’t want to talk to me, I know you’re avoiding me. But, man, I didn’t know who else to call. My dad’s in Alabama…”

Deran cut him off: “Adrian, what’s wrong?”

He could hear the desperation in his friends voice, the alarm, the flat out fear. Something, Deran knew, was very, very wrong. 

“He fucking attacked her. She’s in the ICU,” Adrian’s voice caught as he said the words. And yet, there was venom there too – pure and uncontrolled anger. 

“Who’s in the hospital? Who attacked who?” Deran did his best to keep his voice calm and assertive. Inside, though, his mind swam with frenzied questions. 

“Collin. He fucking beat the shit of out Jess,” Adrian answered quickly.

“Where are you?” 

“I’m at Tri-City.”

Deran didn’t even think about it. Didn’t think about the fact that they hadn’t talked in months, didn’t think about his complicated feelings or what seeing Adrian would do to him. He just drove. Drove like his life depended on it, through stop signs and red lights, down alleyways and side streets, speeding ever forwards to get to Adrian’s side.

* * *

Arms around his chest, squeezing him tightly against the soft fabric of a flannel shirt; his face buried in a sweaty neck, hair tickling his face; soft murmurs in his ear – reassurances that everything would be okay. He stood there for what seemed like hours, clinging to Deran’s body. 

“C’mon,” he heard him say eventually, “do you want to get a cup of coffee?”

His instinct was to say no, to stay with his sister in case she awoke, to sit outside her room on the cold hard ground to punish himself for letting this happen. But, he knew Deran was right, knew that he needed a break.

He followed quietly, relishing the feeling of Deran’s soft hand on his back, guiding him through the hospital hallways, down into the basement, towards the cafeteria. Before he knew it, he was seated at a table, a cup of coffee in his hands, sympathetic eyes staring at him from across the table. 

“Is she going to be okay?” Deran’s voice was gentle.

“I think so. The doctor said she has a concussion and a broken nose. All the blood is just from surface injuries. She won’t need surgery.”

“Where’s Collin?” 

“I don’t know, man. Apparently she ran to a neighbours for help. The police were here awhile ago, but she was still asleep.” 

Adrian thought he was out of tears. And yet, as he thought about his sister – bloody, bruised, nearly unconscious – running through the neighbourhood bagging for help, he lost it again. He wiped the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his face, trying desperately to pull himself together. 

Deran just watched him silently, face filled with concern and worry.

* * *

The cafeteria was nearly empty. Across the room, three nurses sat at a table, giggling over salads and stories of their shifts, their voices loud enough to echo off the pale walls. Behind Adrian Deran could see a woman sitting all alone, a look of sorrow on her face. He wondered idly what had brought her here. 

He studied his friends face, puffy and red from hours of crying. And yet, behind the tears, there was the same old Adrian, the handsome guy Deran couldn’t seem to get out of his head. 

“Where were you, man?” It was the question Deran was dreading, in part because he had no easy answer. 

Where had he been? Six months of his life had passed since they’d last spoken. And yet, he had not single tale to tell. It was six months of hazy drunken days and sleepless nights, six months of self-loathing and self-deprecation, six-months of boredom and six months of fear. 

“I’m sorry,” it was all he could say. 

The truth, he knew, was too much to utter aloud. And, what would that truth be anyway? I couldn’t stop thinking about you naked so I had to stop talking to you altogether? I keep jerking off to the thought of fucking you so I couldn’t be around you? I’ve been too fucking lonely and lost to call? 

And yet, he knew he owed Adrian an explanation, he tried: “I just haven’t been feeling right, man. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

It wasn’t a lie. He really didn’t know what was wrong with him: why feeling happy seemed impossible, why concentrating seemed unmanageable, why not thinking about Adrian 24/7 seemed unbearable. 

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” Deran expected to see rage in his friend’s eyes, or disappointment, or something. But instead, he saw only empathy. 

“I’m not very good at talking, am I?” 

Deran hadn’t meant it as a joke but it felt nice to see a small smile appear on Adrian’s lips. He smiled back, shaking his head, embarrassed at his own foolishness. 

It struck him then: struck him that in his effort to punish himself for his fucked up mind, he’d actually been punishing Adrian all along. He was gutted.

* * *

“Jess?” His voice was soft in his sister’s ear, his fingers soft on her hand as he squeezed it gently in an effort to rouse her. He looked down at Jess, her face peaceful despite the cuts and bruises. Maybe, Adrian thought, it was because she knew she was finally safe.

Adrian felt safer too. Deran had just left after spending hours sitting with him on the hard chairs in the hospital hallway. He thought he’d feel something more: annoyance, irritation, fury, affection. Instead, he just felt relieved. Relieved and thankful that Daren had shown up. 

He tried to wake her again, brushing his fingers lightly along her forehead. This time, his gesture was met with a raspy whisper: “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.” He tried his best to reassure her.

“Is Dad here?” 

“I just talked to him. He said he’d be on the next plane home.” 

The conversation to his father had been difficult. How do you explain to someone that everything is okay when nothing is okay?

“Are you okay?” She asked. He shook his head, breathing heavily, smiling lightly. Only Jess – only she would worry more about Adrian than herself. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he replied. 

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, smoothing her hair against her head with his hand. It was his turn now to care for her.

* * *

The sound of the safety cocking was overshadowed by the rasp of labored breathing. The gun was heavy in his hand, cool against his skin. He’d forgotten how much he liked the feel. 

“You touch her again, you look at her, you fucking think about her again, and I’ll kill you,” his voice was a low rumble in the man’s ear. “Did you hear me?”

There was no reply.

Deran looked over at the tall man standing to his side; he nodded once. He heard a muffled scream as Craig’s boot made contact with soft flesh and hard bone.

“I said, did you fucking hear me?” He was yelling now.

The reply was a dull moan. 

Deran smashed the barrel into the guy’s head, again and again, pistoling-whipping him. He was overcome with adrenaline, overcome with rage. 

“I want you to say it,” he sneered, “Say ‘I will never go near her again’.”

“I’ll never go near her again,” Collin’s voice was pleading, nearly crying. 

“Louder,” Deran was playing now, playing with his victim. All that hatred, that hared that he’d been directing towards himself for so long, was coming out now, directed towards the man who’d hurt Adrian’s sister.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you're enjoying this work!

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Thank you for reading! I’m relatively new to this fandom. So, please leave a comment if you like this story so far and want me to continue writing it, or if there’s anything in it that contradicts the canon! All feedback is appreciated. 
> 
> If all goes well, I think this will be approximately 10 chapters, taking us from Daren’s release, through the trip to Belize, to approximately the start of the series. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading :) I love these characters dearly and really hope I can do them justice. 
> 
> P.S. It’s rated explicit because things will get smutty later ☺ It’s a slow burner.


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